Preference
by sparklyscorpion
Summary: -BLACK CROSS- Of course Sturmbannführer Schörner had a preference, but years in the SS had taught him that expressing an opinion was dangerous. Schörner's thoughts after Rachel is selected for an experiment.


_Author's Note: _Black Cross_ belongs to Greg Iles. I'm just playing with the characters. All of the dialogue is verbatim from the book; the rest is just my attempt to look into what Sturmbannführer Schörner was thinking while it was happening. If you haven't read _Black Cross_ yet, I heartily recommend that you do so; it is an incredible book!_

_Squishy thanks to my beta, Jennyfair!  
_

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"One of these prisoners must function as the control. Do you have a preference?"

Sturmbannführer Wolfgang Schörner blinked involuntarily at the cool detachment in Brandt's voice. He'd just informed the commander of the camp that soldiers had been found shot to death in the Dornow sewers, and yet the man still wished to continue his experiment! There could be partisans or British commandos skulking in the woods that surrounded Totenhausen at that very moment, preparing to storm the complex, but Herr Doktor would not allow anything to interfere with his little laboratory. Schörner was aware that the experiment was important, but so was protecting the camp from attack.

Brandt smirked as Schörner continued to stare at him, and it was only then that Shörner realized that there were two experiments being run here: the obvious one with the nerve gas, and his own reaction to those who had been selected to take part in it – particularly his response to Rachel's presence in the small group. Today there would be four guinea pigs instead of three.

_Rachel_. A dozen different scenarios of how he could save her skated through Schörner's mind, each of them less feasible than the next. He was powerless to help the woman standing only a few meters from him. Schörner had an overwhelming urge to look at her, to stare into the large eyes that so reminded him of Erika's, but he knew that he could not; to show anything but indifference would seal her fate. Brandt would miss nothing with his surgeon's attention to detail; he was sure that the man would see even the briefest flicker of emotion across his features.

Yes, he definitely had a preference; at this moment, Schörner would _prefer_ to sink his fist into his commander's pasty face. Better still, he'd like to have a private moment or two with Sergeant Sturm; he should have broken the man's neck long ago, and he was regretting not doing it when he'd been presented with the opportunity. But Sturm and his dogs were on their way to the village now, and Schörner was accomplishing nothing by thinking of how much he'd like to grind Sturm's face into the gravel with his boot once again. There was only one course of action he could take, and he hoped that it wouldn't lead to the death of the only woman who had managed to stir something inside of him since receiving word of Erika's death two years ago.

"I have no preference." The lie slid easily enough from his mouth. If Schörner did not feel the cold knot of fear that had settled in his stomach, he might have believed the emotionless words himself. He briefly wondered what Rachel thought about his declaration.

Brandt offered him an icy smile; the man didn't appear to be fooled by Schörner's display of apathy. "I am very glad to hear it, Sturmbannführer. In that case—"

"I volunteer to wear a suit!" Rachel's clear voice caused Schörner to snap his head around. Her eyes were bright with desperation as she took a step towards them.

"As would I, if I were in your place." Brandt raked his eyes over Rachel's body for several long seconds, and Schörner ground his teeth together, even though he was well aware that the camp commander preferred young boys to women. There was no need to be jealous; Brandt was just toying with both of them, trying to elicit a response. Schörner bit the inside of his cheek as he waited for his commander's verdict.

Brandt lowered his head in a slight nod before turning on his heel to glare at Schörner. "Well, Sturmbannführer? Give the young lady what she wants. By all means, a suit."

Schörner felt as if all of his blood had been drained from his body as he snapped his fingers to signal Brandt's lackey. He nodded a few times when the commander seemed to require some sort of response from him, but his eyes didn't leave Rachel as she was zipped into the suit. The material looked impossibly thin and flimsy; if Brandt's gas was as lethal as he claimed it to be, how could the suit protect her from certain death?

The trio was led away to the airtight chamber used for all gas tests, and Brandt signaled for Schörner to follow him to the viewing area. He'd been here dozens of times, witnessed hundreds of deaths through that little window, and he hadn't cared. Schörner had been too drunk most of the time to even remember the grisly experiments the next morning. It was like losing Erika all over again, except it was much worse; at least with Erika, he hadn't been forced to watch her death while standing beside the man who had ordered it.

If Rachel survived this, Schörner would take her away from here. He didn't care how much she protested; he knew that the camp would be liquidated as soon as Brandt's experiment proved successful. He would send her children into the _Eindeutschung_ program, just as he'd suggested earlier; Schörner knew that Rachel would never leave the camp without being assured that her children would be safe. Then he'd obtain false papers for her – those were easy enough to be had if money wasn't an object – and send her to Cologne to live with his parents. He'd come for her after the war, after he'd been relieved of his duties and could resume life as a civilian, and then perhaps he'd even marry her. No one would ever know that Rachel had been born a Jew; she would emerge from the camp with papers declaring that she was a Dutch gentile, and anyone who could refute that statement would be dead. Schörner would make sure of that personally, if Rachel survived today.

Schörner would not think about what he would do if she did not.

The old man who hadn't been given a suit, Rachel's father-in-law, was thrashing about on the ground. The Soman must have already been released into the chamber. Schörner eyed Brandt, but the man seemed to be engrossed in the experiment and was not paying him any mind. He finally allowed himself to gaze at Rachel, wondering what she was thinking. Was she praying for life? Thinking of her children? Cursing his name for not doing something to stop this? No, not his Rachel; she was almost always meek and docile, even when she was pleading for his help. Certainly she would not hold this against him. He would lead her to the couch tonight and hold her, explaining how if he had said a word in her defense that Brandt would have killed her outright, and that she must understand.

It seemed like an eternity, but at last Brandt declared that the doors to the chamber should be opened. The doctor was rubbing his hands together, as if this entire scene had been nothing more than a game to him and he was eager to see if he had won. Schörner held his breath as he waited for Rachel to emerge. He should have pressed her into accepting his offer; he should have told her that time was of the essence; he should have found a way to get her out of the camp before today so she wouldn't be subject to these things…

The shoemaker staggered from the chamber, his arms full with a black heap, and it took Schörner a moment to realize that the older man was carrying Rachel. He forced himself to stand back, even as the pair collapsed to the ground. He could still show no preference in front of Brandt, though he could feel the cold trickles of fear racing down his back. The shoemaker removed his own mask before assisting with Rachel's. From where Schörner was standing, he could hear a deep gasping noise coming from the woman who was still lying on the grass.

He'd never heard a sweeter sound inside of Totenhausen's walls.


End file.
